A Fluffy Crest

I walked back inside from the art supply shop as night settled, kicking off my tired boots near the hallway rug. Instead of heading to the low audio cabinet as usual, I climbed up onto the deep cushion of the reading armchair. A clean, round wool pom-pom had rolled into the corner crease beside a smooth wooden knitting needle. After pausing to steady my footing on the soft fabric, I stepped forward and leaned my weight against the dense yarn ball with both flipper sleeves. I rolled it up the slope until it wedged firmly against the polished birch tip of the needle, perching like a quiet crest. I sank back into the cushion, resting happily.